Chapter 33
thirty-three
QUINN
I don’t know what I expected when I sat down to talk to my mother. I guess I thought I would have a better understanding of her actions all those years ago. I wanted a clearer picture of just how similar we are. If I’m capable of hurting the people I love most the same way she hurt all of us. And while I want to believe I could never do what she did—walk away because I felt like it—that fear is still there.
What scares me most is how she described her addiction, how great drugs are. If I let myself think about it, I remember feeling the same way. The freedom I had, living without a care for anything, escaping the hell I had been in mentally.
I haven’t thought about drugs once since being home, but back in New York, while I didn’t think about them often, I would catch myself wondering what would happen if I tried them again. I stopped because I woke up one day and didn’t recognize myself, and the person looking back in the mirror couldn’t have been further from the person I wanted to be.
I know I’m happier here in Ashford Falls—happier than I have been in such a long time. Being with my family, with Declan, I’m finally content with my life. But Mom had once seemed happy in her life too.
If it was so easy for her to turn to drugs, then what happens to me if I stop being happy? Will I slip back into old habits, ruining this life I’ve built for myself?
I know I have a few missed messages from Declan, but instead of returning to the cottage and calling him like I promised, I take the walkway up to the front door of Dad’s house when I get home. I’m not ready to face Declan yet, but I don’t want to be alone, either.
“Bean?” my dad asks from the study when I walk in the front door. “What are you doing here?” He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, a book in his hands and a look of concern on his face. “I thought you had plans with Declan after breakfast.”
“Where’s Max?” I avoid his question, and slowly make my way into the room to sit on the couch. I can’t help but think of Declan and me here Thanksgiving night. I wish thinking about it brought me the happiness I felt that night, but right now, it makes me anxious.
“He’s over at Ethan’s,” Dad says as he closes his book and sets it on the table beside him. “What’s going on, Bean? Talk to me.”
I look at him for a minute and realize he might be the best person to help me with all this, but it also means telling him about what happened back in New York.
“It’s a long story,” I tell him quietly.
He shakes his head, a fond look passing over his face. “I will always have time for you.”
“I saw Mom at The Diner as I finished breakfast with Ava.”
He freezes for a moment, unable to say anything. I see him swallow before he asks, “Did she do something?”
“No, I asked her to talk. I needed to understand what happened, why she left.”
“Quinn—”
“No, I needed it, Dad,” I continue before he can say anything else. “I’ve spent the last ten years feeling more and more like her, and I needed to know.”
“Quinn, you are nothing like your mother,” he says emphatically.
“Dad.” My voice breaks. “I’m more like her than you could ever know.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t let him. For him to understand everything, I’m going to have to tell him about the rape and everything I did after it. I take a deep breath. “Do you remember my accident a few years ago, back in New York?”
He straightens in his seat, his body going taut as if preparing for a blow. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Did Caleb ever give you any details about it?” I know I never told Emily and Caleb exactly what happened to me, but with all of my injuries and the way I’d been around them, it wasn’t hard to figure out. I was pretty confident they knew. I just don’t know if they told Dad.
Dad studies me for a minute. “Yeah, Caleb told me he thought it was more than an accident.” I see his eyes fill with tears, and I wish more than anything I could take this all back and never have to see that pain on his face. “Your brother had been working in the ER for a few years by that point. Unfortunately, he knew the signs.”
“What did he tell you?” I look down at my hands, avoiding the look in my dad’s eyes.
“He shared your injuries with me, the broken jaw and wrist, the sprained ankle, lots of cuts and bruises.”
We’re both quiet. I’m not sure if he’ll say it, but it doesn’t surprise me when he does. Dad’s always been direct, never one to beat around the bush, especially when it comes to important topics. And this is one of those times when everything needs to be explicitly stated, leaving nothing open to interpretation.
“He told me he thought you were raped, not hurt in an accident.” His voice is quiet, though, as if he doesn’t want to say the words.
I nod my head slightly, trying to organize my thoughts. It’s not so much the rape I’m afraid of talking about, but my actions after that I fear telling him. I don’t want to hurt him, not more than I already know hearing about this will hurt to the very depths of his soul.
“I figured he knew. It wasn’t something I could hide,” I say quietly. “I didn’t want to tell any of you what happened.” I glance over at him. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, and I knew you would. I mean, how could you not? But you hadn’t gone into remission yet, and you needed to focus on yourself.”
It’s much harder to tell Dad about it than Declan. I don’t want to cause Dad any more pain than he’s already had in this life, but I need to talk to someone about everything in my head right now. I’m also still so raw from my conversation with Mom that I feel the tears building in the corner of my eyes.
“Bean.” Dad’s voice is as quiet as mine. He stands from his seat and moves to sit by my side on the couch.
“Dad, it’s okay. I’m okay. I got the help I needed, eventually. I just didn’t get that help until a year after the rape, and it’s that year I’m most ashamed of and the reason seeing Mom has stirred up all these feelings.”
“What happened?” He reaches for my hand, squeezing tight.
I know Dad doesn’t want to hear all the nitty-gritty details of this, but I love him all the more for giving me the space I need to talk about it right now.
“I was lost after the rape. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to get back to living the life I had been living. I mean, I was afraid to walk down the street in broad daylight.”
Dad nods in understanding but says nothing, giving me space to organize my thoughts.
“At first, I turned to alcohol to numb that fear.” I look down at his hand holding mine, looking at his face as I tell him this isn’t something I can do. “Then I turned to drugs, specifically cocaine.” I hear the sharp intake of air, and the tears in my eyes burn more than ever. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No.” Dad squeezes my hand and waits until I lift my head to look at him before he continues. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Do you hear me?”
I nod my head and fall into his chest, hugging him tightly as the tears break free. Dad doesn’t say anything else, he holds me tightly until I calm down and pull away.
“There’s more.”
“I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me.” Dad reaches forward and wipes the tears from my cheeks.
“It’s not pretty.”
“Sometimes life isn’t, but we can always find the way back as long as we’re looking for it.”
“It wasn’t just drugs, it was also sex. A lot of it. With a lot of partners.” I cringe slightly at my feelings about this and admitting this to my dad. But if I’m trying to make him understand why I feel like I’m like my mother, then I have to tell him everything. “I was trying to prove to myself I still had control over my life and I could still find joy, not just in sex, but in life.”
“Quinn, I understand. You don’t have to explain it to me. All I care about is that you’re okay.” I nod when he pauses, letting him know I am okay. “Then I don’t care how you got there.”
“That’s not why I’m telling you this.”
“Right. Your mom.” Dad studies me. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but it’s a few minutes before he speaks again. “Quinn, even knowing all of that, I still don’t think you are anything like your mother.”
“How can you say that?” The tears are back, but they don’t fall. “I left like she did. I got addicted to drugs like she did. I slept around like she did.”
“Quinn. Stop.” He takes my hand again, gripping it tight. “You are nothing like your mother. You may have left, but it wasn’t in the middle of the night, with no idea where you were and if you were okay. You left with a dream and plan to make that dream a reality. We supported that and wanted it just as badly as you did. We knew exactly where you were and what you were doing. You never gave us a chance to wonder if you were okay because you always stayed in contact with us.”
“Dad—”
“No, I’m not done.” He pauses to ensure I won’t interrupt him again. “When it comes to drugs and alcohol, only you can say if it’s something you still crave—if it’s more important than building a life for yourself. But I’ve seen you over these last few months, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier, and as long as you’re willing to work and fight to maintain that, then you are nothing like your mother.”
“I’m afraid I’ll wake up one day and decide I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m afraid I’ll hurt Declan the way Mom hurt you,” I blurt out.
“Oh, Quinn. No. I don’t believe for a minute you would.” His grip on my hand tightens. “Your mother always talked about leaving Ashford Falls.”
“She did?”
“Yes, long before we ever started dating. It’s part of the reason I waited to make a move.” He chuckles lightly. “I assumed since she hadn’t left after high school, she’d changed her mind. We were still young, and that’s my fault for assuming something and not talking to her about it. But it’s also on her for not making her wants known before we took such a big step toward our future together. Do you know what you want?”
Do I know what I want? Yes, I want to be here. I want to see Max grow up; I want to meet my new niece or nephew and any future babies Caleb and Emily have. I want to be here for those bi-weekly breakfasts with Ava and Emily. I don’t want to miss any more time with my family.
And I want to be with Declan. I want to be a part of his life and help him with his dreams. I want to wake up to him every morning and have lunch every afternoon. I want to keep having our Thursday night dinners at The Diner. I want a future with him, whatever that looks like, as long as we do it together. I want to continue to build on this life we’ve started.
“Yes, I know what I want.”
“As long as you’re honest about whatever that is, then you won’t hurt Declan. You won’t allow yourself to. You care too much.” He smiles at me. “You and Declan are not your mother and me. You are your own people. You’ll make your own mistakes. That’s how life and relationships work, but as long as you’re honest with each other and willing to work for it, you both will be fine. I know it’s cliché, but it’s all about communication. As long as you two continue to talk to each other, I know you’ll make it.”
I don’t know what it is about hearing Dad's words, but I suddenly realize he’s right. I may have done things similar to Mom, but I’ve always loved my family. I’ve always wanted what’s best for them and wanted to be a part of their lives. I’ve never truly abandoned them. They wouldn’t let me, and I never wanted to.
I don’t know what the future holds. I can’t say what I want today won’t change, but I know I don’t want to find out without Declan at my side.
“Thanks, Dad.” I hug him tight, holding on for a few minutes before letting go. “I’m sorry to drop this bomb on you and run, but I need to talk to Declan.”
“Go, Bean.” He laughs lightly. “We’re good.”
I press a quick kiss to his forehead, and then I’m running out the door.
Finally, I’m ready to fight for what I want.